My Hands
by longing.for.redemption
Summary: She had dreamed of him before in the last five years, ever since he had disappeared a month after the Liar Game ended without so much as a goodbye, but he never looked this different or this good... *LEMON*


**A/N:** I know I should be working on Bewildering Temptation, but I've been in a life-is-a-bitch-I-hate-her kind of mood all week and I just don't FEEL like working on it. That's probably a horrible excuse, but hey, none of you wanna read the half-assed piece of crap I would've written if I forced myself to work on it, right? Of course not! So instead, I present to you this emo piece that is the product of my emo week and MY FIRST **LEMON**! XD

As much as I dislike songfics myself, I have to admit that this one was inspired by and named after Leona Lewis's "My Hands." Awesome song, had me crying my eyes out the first time I heard it. *hides in embarrassment*

**WARNING: LEMON LEMON LEMON! **(Just in case you missed it the first couple of times). Don't read if you're gonna get offended.

**Disclaimer: **Even if I claimed to own Akiyama & co., nobody would believe me anyway...

* * *

**My Hands  
Leona Lewis**

_I wake in the morning tired of sleeping__!  
Get in the shower and make my bed alone__  
I put on my make up talking to the mirror  
Ready for a new day without you_

_And I walk steady on my feet, I talk, my voice obeys me__  
I go out at night, sleep without the lights  
And I do all of the things I have to keeping you off my mind  
But when I think I'll be alright I am always wrong 'cause_

_My hands, don't wanna start again  
My hands, no, they don't wanna understand  
My hands, they just shake and try to break whatever peace I may find_

_My hands, they only agree to hold__  
Your hands, and they don't wanna be without  
Your hands, and they will not let me go, no they will not let me go_

_I talk about you now and go a day without crying  
__I go out with my friends now, I stay home all alone__  
And I don't see you everywhere and I can say your name easily  
I laugh a bit louder without you  
_

_And I see different shades now and I'm almost never afraid now  
But when I think I'll be okay I am always wrong 'cause_

_My hands, don't wanna start again__  
My hands, no, they don't wanna understand  
My hands, they just shake and try to break whatever peace I may find_

_My hands, they only agree to hold__  
Your hands, and they don't wanna be without  
Your hands, and they will not let me go, no they will not let me go_

_Sometimes I wake, I see them reaching out for you  
__Quietly breaking whatever shields I spent so long building up  
__I cannot fake 'cause when they cry I'm unspoken  
They miss holding my baby_

_

* * *

_

Around midnight, a black Lamborghini, looking completely out of place, pulled up next to a green and white apartment building in a quiet middle-class residential area in the suburbs of Tokyo. After switching off the engine, the driver and his passenger sat, fidgeting in their seats for a few minutes as an awkward silence fell upon them, both wanting to say something to the other, but neither knowing how or where to start. Finally, without a word, the young woman in her mid twenties unhooked her seatbelt. "Well, um, thanks for today." She made a move to open the door but was stopped by a hand on her arm. Turning back around, she looked back at the driver expectantly, her calm eyes juxtaposed against his intense stormy ones, waiting as he worded and then reworded his thoughts into sentences that could be verbalized.

"Kitten, come home with me tonight." To anyone else his words, when they finally came out, would have sounded like a condescending command, but Kanzaki Nao knew him well enough by now to know that it was actually a question, an invitation, as his pride would never allow him to actually ask her to stay with him. Just the endearment, which he only used during their most intimate moments, was enough to tell her that. It had come from one lazy Saturday morning when they were curled up around each other, both of them too comfortable to get out of bed. He had suddenly remarked that she was like a kitten, innocent and gullible, but not without claws and teeth that could really hurt someone if she tried. And, he had added, almost as an afterthought, there was something unattainable about her, something that drove people crazy with desire to monopolize her, only to realize in the end that they couldn't because she had selflessly given so much of herself away. She smiled at the memory. He didn't have to worry now because even though he may not have all of her, he can be sure that she had given him everything she had left to give away.

"I'm sorry, I can't," she apologized softly. "I have to go see my father first thing in the morning." Even her father approved of him now, though it hadn't always been that way. The first time she had first introduced him as her boyfriend, her father had looked at him and calmly told him to get out while he had a talk with his daughter. The 'talk' turned out to be a lecture and a warning that a handsome man like that, who could have his pick of women, would only break her gullible heart in the end. It was so unlike her father to say such horrible things about someone, especially someone who he knew was so important to her, that they ended up, for the first time in their lives, screaming at each other. "I don't like his eyes!" her father had finally yelled. "They are way too calculating and you will end up only a factor in his calculations!"

Unable to listen anymore, her heart bleeding with betrayal at the words of the man who made up the fundamental core of her life's philosophy, she had ran out of the room and straight into her lover's arms, sobbing brokenly. It was he who sat her down before walking into the room that she had just appeared from, and disappeared for more than an hour before wheeling her father out, both of them chatting amicably. Her father's expression had sobered when he looked at her and when he apologized, his voice had so much regret that she couldn't do anything but forgive him in an instant. Just like that, the introduce-boyfriend-to-father-ordeal was over and she was to learn, later, that it was part of a father's natural defence mechanism to snarl at anything he perceived to be a threat to his family, including handsome young men who wanted to take his daughter away.

Ironically, now a year later, it was her father who kept asking her when they were going to tie that knot and give him the grandchild that he wanted to see before he died. His question was usually followed by her vehement denial that he was _not_ going to die, EVER, to which he would laugh and call her a foolish girl. "Everyone dies someday," he would say as he gently petted the top of her head. "Now that I know there's someone who will take care of you, I won't have to feel guilty when I leave to meet your mother." She could always hear from his tone how much he still loved and missed her mother, and while she hated the thought of her father leaving her all alone in this world, another part of her would pray that they will reunite someday and be able to stay together forever. In the last five years, she had come to know very well the pain of being separated from someone you love, and if just a few years had made her feel so desolate, she couldn't even begin to comprehend how her father had survived decades of this sorrow and loneliness.

Remembering the longing look on her father's face, she wondered vaguely if death could reunite all lovers, no matter how hopeless their situation may be, but that idea was neither here nor there, and she pushed it firmly away. She had her love now, and he was right in front of her, gazing at her with his eyebrows knit together in what looked like a scowl but was really an expression of uncertainty and hesitation.

"We could go see him together. Tell him about our…arrangement…" Gently, he grabbed her hand in his, thumb rubbing over the diamond on her ring finger, while the rest of his fingers caressed the inside of her hand.

She smiled at him softly, amused by his choice of words, this handsome man that she was going to spend the rest of her life with, a genius in every way except when it came to expressing himself and communicating with others. Trust him to find the most distant word for 'relationship' and use it to refer to their engagement. But she could hardly fault him because that's one of his points she found most endearing. She placed her other hand on top of his. "It's not that I don't want to," she explained gently, "but tomorrow is the anniversary of my mother's death, so I think my father and I need some time alone. It would probably be better to wait until another day to tell him about us."

He squeezed her hand lightly. "Why didn't you tell me about that? If I had known, I would've chosen another time to propose to you–"

"No." He was interrupted her short command and by her fingers on his mouth. "I didn't know that you were going to propose tonight, but I was very happy when you did, so don't be sorry about it. Father's going to be overjoyed when he hears about it too, so let's tell him as soon as possible, just not tomorrow, okay?"

"I could drive you to the hospital tomorrow."

She shook her head, feeling slightly guilty that she was rejecting the closest thing to a plea she had ever heard coming from him. Still, it can't be helped. She really wanted to be left alone with her thoughts tonight.

"Okay." Bringing her hands to his lips, he slowly kissed her fingertips one by one as he murmured, "Just know that…" two fingers, "I'll be…" then another two, "dreaming of you…" reaching the last finger on one hand, he switched to the other, "tonight…" two more, "writhing and moaning…" and the last two, "under me," he finished with a confident smirk, before leaning in to capture her lips with his. Despite his provocative words, the kiss was more tender than passionate, and it spoke volumes of trust and promises in a way that made her heart hurt with a bittersweet ache that, she surmised, could only be about love.

As his mouth caressed hers, she thought about how much she loved him. They've been through so much since they met that it was kind of amazing they were still together. They had pulled through, though, and a year later, here she was, engaged to one of the best men in the world, even though none of her friends would believe her when she told them that no matter how cold and arrogant he may seem on the outside, deep down he was actually a total sweetheart. If there was one thing that she was grateful to the Liar Game for, it was that it introduced them to each other so that they may end up like this today.

_Liar._ She frowned at the intruding thought, willing it to leave her alone. _He's not the one you're grateful for. The one you're really grateful for, the one you really want is-_

She gasped and pulled back, breaking off the kiss. As if sensing her confusion, her fiancé gave her a worried look.

"Kitten?"

"A-Ah, sorry!" she stuttered, turning back in her seat to face the front, hands nervously pulling and straightening the non-existent wrinkles in her white lacy top, mind frantically searching for an excuse for her sudden behaviour. "I-I-I just have too much on my mind tonight. Um, I think I better go!"

Before he could say or do anything, she was out of the car, slamming the door shut with a big bang that resonated loudly in the night. Then, without looking back, she raced up the path to her apartment, stopping in front of the door to punch in the code that would let her into the building, her hand trembling so much that it took her five tries before she got it right. Heaving a sigh of relief when the door finally beeped with acceptance and unlocked with a mechanical whirl, she yanked it open and darted inside, glad to be out of the glaring lamplight that seemed to strip her of everything, leaving her secrets bare and open for everyone to see. Walking a few meters into the corridor, making sure that she was engulfed enough in the inky shadows that she could not be seen by the car still sitting silently outside, she sank down onto the floor, her legs trembling too much to support her any longer.

"Stupid, stupid Nao!" she whispered as she clenched both hands into fists and gently hit herself on the top of her head. "I thought we had this settled already! What are you doing, dragging out things that have long been buried? What good is the past when you've decided to move on?" She drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, curling up into the classic defensive foetal position. Resting her head on her arms, she was hit with a sudden wave of exhaustion and her last conscious thought was that she really shouldn't sleep in the corridor of her apartme….

* * *

The sound of a car engine starting broke the silence of the night and pierced through her sleep-fogged brain. She lifted her head and hissed at the sharp pain that darted immediately through her neck. It took her a few seconds before she remembered where she was, and why she was there. Squinting as she looked out the door of the building, her eyes too adjusted to the darkness to stand the harsh glare of the streetlamp outside, she saw that the sky was still dark. Yet, judging from the pain and numbness she felt in her muscles and limbs, she must have been in that curled up position for a good half an hour to an hour, if not more.

Using the wall as a support, she pushed herself up onto her feet, clumsily reaching down to grab her purse and almost falling down in the process, before taking a few experimental hobbles. Wincing as she discovered new pains with each movement, she slowly made her way to the other side of the corridor, her hand never leaving the wall that guided her. The sore muscles and numbness receded fast, leaving her at the mercy of a thousand needles of pain as she reached the bottom of the stairs, but even that disappeared quickly and by the time she reached the second floor landing, she was moving normally again.

Walking down the corridor until she reached the door to her apartment, she pushed down the metal plate that covered the number pad of the lock, causing the buttons to light up instantly. Reaching out slowly, she punched in the code –1, 2, 2, 8, 7– to unlock the door, the movement of her fingers automatic from years of pressing the same numbers everyday. It was ironic that she'd never considered changing it. Maybe after all these years, she really was still foolish beyond hope.

"Nao."

Her breath stopped. She whirled around, big eyes impossibly wide, pupils dilated in shock, her heart drumming a prestissimo rhythm that stabbed her painfully with each staccato beat, as she craned her neck to peer at the dark corner from where she thought the oh-so-familiar voice had come. _It couldn't be…could it?_ There was a moment of silence, the stillness dark and heavy as if someone had pressed the pause button on her life, forcefully rendering her immobile against her will. Then the silhouette of a man shifted in the shadows, black against black, and she could only stand and watch, rooted to her spot, as he came closer to her, one resounding footstep at a time, her mind's chant that this must be another one of her dreams overridden by her heart's whisper that it didn't matter.

He hesitated for a second by the window before stepping out of the shadows, a dramatic move like the protagonist of a play stepping into the spotlight for the very first time, the light from the streetlamp illuminating half of him, leaving the rest black, making him look like a half-formed apparition, and this time, her heart stopped as well. He was dressed in black from head to toe with his hands tucked into the pockets of his trench coat. His hair, once long, was now short and gelled up, the unfamiliarity of it contrasting with his eyebrows which were drawn together in the frown that she remembered so well. And his eyes, oh god, his narrowed black onyx eyes were fathomless, gazing at her with an expression that she didn't understand. If she didn't already know who he was, she would have thought he was the grim reaper himself, coming to take her soul away with him; he would have been one hell of an angel of death, the way he enticed her just by standing there.

"Akiyama-san…."

She had dreamed of him before in the last five years, ever since he had disappeared a month after the Liar Game ended without so much as a goodbye, but he never looked this different or this good, always appearing the way he had looked the last time she saw him: longish hair, wrinkled white dress shirt, black slacks, and the usual frown on his face. The dreams were never frequent, but always came at just the right moments when she really needed to tell him something–when the man on the street she had lent money to had actually returned the money, when she had graduated from university with first class honours because the A+ she got in her psychology course had pulled her average up just enough, when a drunken Fukunaga-san had finally come out of the closet and declared that he was gay at the Liar Game reunion she had organized, leaving her speechless while everyone else just nodded and said it was about time. The dreams were like her Linus security blanket, an old favourite stuffed animal, an irreplaceable part of her that she pulled out for a hug whenever she needed one.

He never talked, just watched her with that endearing frown while she chatted away, telling him everything she wanted to say, and more, as she ran out of stories and moved onto movies that she had watched, articles in the newspaper, her grocery list, everything, _anything_ to keep him in front of her a bit longer, hoping beyond hope every time that this time he'd still be there when she stopped talking and opened her eyes. Reality was never so kind to her.

She could still vividly remember the last time his dream self visited. She had just been confessed to for the very first time and, confused, she had run away from it, literally. Reaching home, she had collapsed on her bed, closed her eyes in exhaustion, and found Akiyama waiting for her on the other side. For the first and only time she didn't start with what's most important, choosing, instead, to first beat around the bush with all the things that didn't matter, the subject of the one way conversation spiralling round and round until finally, unavoidably, having nothing else left to say, she had told him about the confession.

"Yokoya-san asked me out today," she mumbled guiltily and for the first time ever, dream Akiyama's expression changed, eyebrows drawing infinitesimally closer at the name of his rival. She had wanted to look away, but dared not take her eyes off of him in case he disappeared. "'Woman, be mine,' he had said. It wasn't very romantic, not like the way I had imagined a confession to be, but I could tell that he was sincere…." She had paused right then, hoping that the image in front of her would give her some sort of indication as to what the real Akiyama would think. He didn't and she was forced to continue when the silence had become too stifling. "I know you don't like him, but I-I'm going to accept. S-So you can't come anymore." She looked at him desperately, silently pleading him to understand what she was trying to say, but he just kept looking at her with that unreadable expression. Feeling a familiar prickling behind her eyes, she did look away this time. "I can't be going out with someone and dreaming of someone else at night! Please, Aki–" She turned back around to look at him, but he was already gone. The next morning, she had gotten up, washed the tearstains off her face, and called Yokoya with her answer.

That was more than a year ago.

And here he was, once again, standing in front of her, looking better than ever, when she thought she had put him away for good.

"Akiyama-san…" she whispered again, her hand reaching out as if to touch him. The rock on her ring finger glinted as it hit the light, sending a harsh stab of light into her eyes, making her stop dead in the middle of her movement as it caught the attentions of both of them, reminding her with a sharp clarity just why he was there. He shifted restlessly, moving slightly back into the shadows, and she suddenly knew, beyond all uncertainty and doubt, that regardless of her will, of whether she was ready or not, this was the last time she'll ever see him again in her dreams.

"NO!"

Her desperate cry echoed loudly in the empty hallway as she flew across the distance between them and did what she had never dared to do in any of the previous dreams: she touched him. And found him surprisingly solid as she gripped his sleeve, the soft smooth acrylic material of his jacket felt almost like leather. "No…" she repeated and shook her head softly, as he stared at her like she was a puzzle he couldn't solve. Feeling a bit bolder when he didn't pull back or disappear, she reached up with her other hand and let her trembling fingertips graze against his forehead, following his eyebrow to his temple, to his cheekbone, across to his nose, then finally down to trace the sensual mouth, those lips that she had always wanted to touch, but had never dared to till now. Mesmerized, she pressed down on them a little more firmly and was surprised when they parted, drawing a finger in. Teeth nipped it just hard enough to hurt, before letting go and his tongue came out to lick at it apologetically. With a strangled cry, she pulled it out and moved her hands up to cup his face, leaving a wet streak of saliva across one cheek, dragging his face down to hers as she closed her eyes and stood on her tiptoes to press her mouth against his.

He froze. She whimpered. Parting her lips, she sucked pleadingly on his lower lip, dragging her tongue across it in a wet caress. Still no reaction. Frantically trying to get him to respond, she bit down on the flesh. Hard. That got her the reaction that she wanted. With a low growl, he turned them around and slammed her forcefully against the wall, her shoulders and head's protests of pain forgotten in the next moment as he pressed himself against her and started grinding their bodies together, trapping her between the cool concrete and his feverishly hot body. Or maybe it was her body that was feverishly hot. It didn't matter, not when every part of him was pressed against every part of her in just the right way.

His right hand found its way to her left wrist and ripped it away from his face to pin it up above her head. Feeling his hand move up until his fingers groped around at hers, she thought for a brief second that he was trying to lace their fingers together, before they clamped down on one particular finger and yanked, his blunt fingernails leaving four trails of scraped broken skin as they pulled her ring off. She hardly noticed the pain, as he chose that moment to deepen their kiss further, his tongue plunging into her mouth, licking along her teeth, twining itself with hers in their own mating dance, and though the movement was so sudden that she almost choked, she pushed back just as eagerly, opening her mouth even wider as if by doing so, she could suck his soul into herself, their teeth crashing together painfully, slicing through the skin of lips, the metal tang of blood flooding her taste buds.

She did, however, hear the satisfyingly crack of diamond against glass when, with an expert flick of his wrist, he flung her ring out of the half-open window, the sharp sound reminding her of what exactly she was doing and while, somewhere in the back of her mind, her guilty conscience berated her actions, she just couldn't bring herself to stop. Even though this was only a dream, her unfaithful heart had already betrayed her fiancé's love and trust in the worst way possible, or was it her heart that was faithful and Akiyama that she betrayed when she agreed to go out with someone that was not him? She didn't know anymore. Her simple honest mind was not created to contemplate rhetorical questions like this. All she knew was that she had tried so hard for over a year to be good and deserving of the man who treasured her so preciously, and was doing so well that even she thought she had succeeded, but she had fallen short at the most crucial point as, without any hesitation, she had chosen a ghost from the past over the reality of a future. If she was doomed to bear the guilt no matter what she did, then once, just this once, let her be selfish. Let her have the one truly selfish wish buried deep inside her heart. Even if it was only a dream. Even if, when morning came, her heart would shatter beyond repair.

She clung to him, eyes still tightly shut, nose against his cheek, mouth furiously trying to devour his, a drop of saliva mixed with blood escaping from the corner and trailing its way past her chin and down her neck before disappearing into the neckline of her top, her right hand buried his short hair, while her left arm slipped under his jacket and up the back to claw at his shoulder through his shirt. His hands moved around to the back to cup and squeeze her butt through her skirt, bringing them closer together but never speeding up his grinding. Frustrated at the maddeningly slow pace of his rocking, she started rolling her hips frantically to meet his, creating even more friction between them. Grabbing one of his hands, she pulled it down and pressed it on her bare thigh underneath her skirt, hoping that he would get the message. She didn't need the foreplay, didn't want him to be gentle, especially if this was to be the one and only time she could have him like this. She wanted him hard and violent and _now_, on her, in her, around her. She wanted him crazy with lust, insane with desire, squeezing the life out of her until she couldn't breathe as he brutally pounded in and out of her until she couldn't think of anything except that he wanted her, needed her with the same desperation that she wanted and needed him. Just for tonight, she wanted to forget that she'd been left behind, unwanted.

As if sensing her thoughts, the hand under her skirt dragged itself up slowly, fingertips digging painfully into the flesh of her inner thigh, making her squirm against the unfamiliar sensation, her gasps swallowed into his mouth. As his hand went up, hers went down, scratching their way from his chest to his stomach, feeling the hard muscles under his shirt. Reaching her apex, he turned his hand and cupped it in his palm, pressing up hard as he curled and uncurled his fingers to knead and rub her through the material of her panties, making her moan, the fabric becoming even wetter than it already was. Distractedly, she moved her hands lower until it reached the top of his pants where they fumbled around clumsily in their haste to undo the button and zipper. Reaching inside to pull him out, she was surprised to encounter nothing but hair and skin; he was wearing no underwear. The thought made her whimper as she took out his manhood, stroking and pulling on it, desperate to have it inside her.

Her eyes flew open when he suddenly pushed the bottom of her panties to the side shoved two fingers into her without warning, her throat constricting into a voiceless scream. Feeling the change, he left her mouth and made his way down her face, over her chin, along the soft fleshy underside before finally arriving at her throat, pressing surprisingly gentle kisses on her skin all the way down. There he worked at the tenseness in her neck, alternating between aggravating bites and soothing licks, while he curled and twisted his fingers, pressing firmly against her inner walls, his thumb rubbing and pinching her sensitive little nub relentlessly. She buried her face into his shoulder, teeth clamping down on the muscles there over the thin material of his shirt. She needed more, and harder! She constricted around his fingers, simultaneously tightening her hands around him and increasing the speed of her strokes, trying to convey that thought to him.

Just as she thought she was going to go mad, he abruptly grabbed her wrists with his free hand and pinned them above her head once again, pulled out the fingers that were inside of her and, before she had time to fully realize they were gone, pushed into her, seating himself all the way to the hilt with one powerful thrust. She threw her head back with a loud cry at the sudden feeling of being filled to the brim, his thick hard member pulsing deep inside her, her head slamming painfully against the wall behind. Without waiting for her to adjust, he pulled back and plunged into her again, and again, and again, setting a rhythm so primal that each hard thrust forcefully lifted her off her feet, her twisted underwear, still around her hips, pressing against her sensitive flesh in a most uncomfortable way.

Her hands struggled against his hold and he released them, moving his own down to join its partner in gripping her hips, pulling her down each time he rocked upwards. She wound her arms around his neck as she lifted her legs and crossed them behind his back, hanging on for dear life, relying on his legs and the wall to hold up both their weights. He took a step back so that he could sink deeper into her, ramming her shoulders and head against the wall with each push, the speed of their rhythm gradually increasing to an erratic beat.

Feeling the end nearing, she pulled his face to hers for one last open-mouthed kiss that tasted of blood and salty tears that she had not realized she was crying, her blurry vision refusing to focus no matter how hard she tried. "Akiyama-san…" she sobbed, and then, with a sudden spur of bravery, "Shi-Shinichi. Shinichi. _Shinichi!_ _I_–"

She lost her voice as she came with a silent scream, her back curving in a beautiful arc, her inner walls constricting almost painfully around him as he continued to drive himself into her, unconsciousness coming to claim her even as her mind fought against it, holding on just long enough to mouth the words that she had always regretted not saying to him.

_I love you._

_

* * *

_

A ray of sunshine streamed in through the window, first at an obtuse angle, its beam hitting the far end of the apartment and illuminating the kitchen, then inching its way across the room until finally it fell upon the face of the occupant on one side of the bed, heating the skin of her face and slowly pulling her into consciousness. Without opening her eyes, she turned herself around to face the inside of the bed with a content sigh, revelling in the warm and unfamiliar texture surrounding her. Rubbing a foot against it experimentally, her hazy mind noted that the strange smoothness was actually the feeling of her bed sheets against her bare skin; she was lying in bed, completely naked.

Visions of the previous night's dream came rushing into her mind and she flushed as she remembered her wanton actions, shocked that she could be so shameless and clingy. Now that her mind was clear, she couldn't help but feel that she must have been possessed the night before, that her subconscious desires, having been suppressed for far too long, had broken free under the madness of night and taken over her body, turning her into the wild nymph that she had been. Still, as embarrassing as it was, she still found herself clamping her eyes shut even more tightly, trying in vain to relive the dream one more time, the dream where the kisses, touches, and pain had felt so astonishingly real that she couldn't help but wonder if….

Her breath caught at the implication and, against her will, her heart sped up, trying to punch its way out of her chest with each rapid beat. _No Nao, don't even think about it,_ her rational mind scolded ruthlessly. _It wasn't real. _HE_ wasn't real. Fantasize about it if you really must, but don't start deluding yourself into thinking it was real._ But it was no use. She would not be Kanzaki Nao if she didn't take every opportunity to be positive and optimistic, and the hope in her heart had already taken wings, soaring to heights where reason could no longer reach to grab it and drag it back down to earth.

Slowly, apprehensively, her eyes still firmly shut, she stretched out an arm, hand breaching the invisible middle line of the double bed to touch at what's on the other side.

Nothing.

Her eyes snapped open. Nothing. Extending her other arm to join the first, she patted the empty bed beside her frantically, as if doing so could negate the reality before her eyes. Nothing. Pulling herself up into a sitting position, the blankets falling down to pool around her waist, exposing her creamy skin to the harsh glare of the sunlight, she whirled her head around, glancing wildly to the left and right, hoping to catch a glimpse of the familiar silhouette in her apartment, the silhouette that had been permanently imprinted in her memory. Nothing. Her panic-stricken gaze fell down to her skin and she stared. Nothing. Her pale skin was smooth and unmarked, a trait usually associated with beauty and envy, but to her it was the most horrendous and unwanted sight, because it screamed of nothing. The realization hit her then. Her hopes had come to nothing. What she saw and felt last night was nothing. In the end, after all that's been said and done, the only thing she had left was Nothing.

Feeling the tears gather, the salty liquid pooling and spilling over the rims of her eyes, she raised a hand and swiped it away angrily, wincing when it caused a piercing pain to streak across her eyelids. Looking down at her hands, she was greeted by the sparkling of a diamond reflecting the bright morning light into her eyes, making it almost painful to look at, the platinum silver band on which it was mounted looking more like a handcuff, a heavy link in a chain that kept her prisoner, than a symbol of promise. It was a sight that destroyed any chance of making her tears stop, a sight that shattered all her dreams, grinding them into a fine powder that was soon all but lost in the cruel tempest of life.

* * *

I'm sorry! Don't kill me! I wanted to end the story happily ever after, but it just didn't happen. Poor Yokoya, I love him. He's such a tsundere! A little sadistic, maybe, but definitely sweet! *sigh* My first lemon and it had to be of the violent scratching type. And man, was it hard to write! I have a new-found appreciation for everyone who has ever written a lemon! Anyway, love it? Hate it? I should be banned from writing lemons ever again? You demand that I stop torturing Nao and give her her beloved Shinichi back? Click that review button and tell me!

**Trivia!** What does the code to Nao's door (1, 2, 2, 8, 7) stand for? Message me with the right answer and I'll dedicate my next LG update (be it a new chapter or a new story) to you! XD


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